


the nature of matter

by kcalto



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 02:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19714228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcalto/pseuds/kcalto
Summary: It all might have ended differently. Steve could have stayed, at home in the ’40s, and Bucky could have been fine with it. Hands down, it would have been the worst thing he’d force himself to do, but he would have, if it was what Steve wanted. God knew he deserved some peace and quiet.





	the nature of matter

The press conference was held largely to assure the public that everything was under control. While nothing was technically out of control at that particularly moment, ‘in control’ was a stretch. No one had asked for his presence, so he elected to stay at home and watch. 

After everything, the conference was just another thing that had to be done. Steve gave his best answers, deflected to remind the room of Tony and Nat if he had to. Bruce explained that they were fine, safe, the infinity stones taken to different corners of space and time. The others chimed in when necessary, offering the occasional platitude if the room got antsy. 

They asked about the Winter Soldier. Steve deflected. They asked again. Steve said he was fine, helped in the final battle, and deflected. They asked again, specifically, this time, about how the past was, if he wanted to stay. 

Steve was staring down at the table when he said simply, “I couldn’t,” and let the room believe it was because of some space-time contract. 

Of course Bucky had thought about it. Fuck, he was certain that when Steve went back in time to hide the stones he wouldn’t be coming back. Peggy was there, and a whole, relatively unharmed Bucky, too. He’d have been in his own time again, why would he have turned that down. He was stupid. 

It all might have ended differently. Steve could have stayed, at home in the ’40s, and Bucky could have been fine with it. Hands down, it would have been the worst thing he’d force himself to do, but he would have, if it was what Steve wanted. God knew he deserved some peace and quiet. 

But then he came back, a whole five seconds after Bucky had last seen him, looking relieved and less sad than he always did. He thought he did a good job at hiding his surprise.

The front door opened, not startling him but pulling him back to the present, and there was Steve, hanging his jacket by the door and dropping a kiss to Bucky’s cheek as he walked by the couch. Bucky smiled up at him. 

“Let’s do takeout for dinner,” Steve said as he opened the fridge, the very, embarrassingly empty fridge. 

“Not from that place we tried last week,” he said, leaning his head back to watch. 

“I thought you liked it,” 

“The rice was like soup, Steve, I deserve better,” 

Steve rolled his eyes, “Fine, no soupy rice, we’ll get pizza,” 

Bucky grinned, because he won. “The press conference seemed to go well,” he said neutrally.

“You could have come,” Steve returned, just as neutral.

“A war-criminal might unsettle some people,” 

“Not me,” he said.

“Right, because you’re so well adjusted,” he huffed.

“Rude,” he muttered, dialing the pizza place’s number, “come with me next time,” 

“When I said we should go on a date soon, that’s not what I meant,” 

“Just think about it, alright? I hate them less if you’re there,” 

Bucky smiled and shook his head, going silent for a moment. 

“Why did you come back?” He heard himself asking before he could decide if he wanted to hear the answer. He brought one of his legs up, resting his chin on his knee, and watched. 

Steve froze, holding the phone away from his ear. “What?”

“When you went back, I— you could have had everything,” he said, and Steve crossed the room before he could finish, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him. He leaned forward, one hand on Bucky’s knee, staring at him, looking exhausted and, god help him, scared. Bucky hated this.

“This is my life, I have everything,” 

“Steve,” he sighed, because he was being dense, even for Steve. “You had another chance with Peggy, you could have had a normal life,”

“I— where is this coming from?” Which didn’t exactly help.

“You didn’t have to stay for me,” 

“What? Buck, no, when I— when I said I couldn’t, that wasn’t— it wasn’t an obligation, this is just my life, the people I love are here,” he said earnestly. 

Bucky forced back an eye roll, but it was a close call. “You could have had Peggy and a relatively unharmed me, it would have been so much less complicated, and I _know you_ , you thrive in uncomplicated,”

Steve let out a breath and closed his eyes for a second, “I made my peace with Peggy a long time ago. She had a family, a good life, and I’m not— the ‘me’ she knew didn’t come out of the ice, at least not for long. As for you,” he said, grabbing Bucky’s hand, “I’ve been trying to get back to you since the forties. I want to be here, in the twenty-first century, with you. I miss back then, but I’d miss this more.” Bucky was staring down at their hands, Steve’s flesh and bone holding cold metal, and he didn’t feel sick at the sight of the arm, thank you, Shuri, but. It wasn’t a particularly gentle reminder of everything that had changed. It was, however, a shiny beacon of the Bucky that Steve had lost, the Bucky he’d had in the forties, and whatever Bucky sat before him in a crisis now wasn’t that Bucky, just like Steve wasn’t that Steve from the forties, and, god, he certainly wasn’t the same Steve with everything to prove who’d submitted himself to scientific experimentation. Peggy’s Steve wasn’t this Steve, but in the same vein, Steve’s Bucky wasn’t this Bucky. Too much had happened, and clearly the universe was not that kind, and there was no guarantee that this Bucky and this Steve still fit together the same way, no guarantee that Steve hadn’t thrown away his only chance of normal with either of them. 

“I stayed for purely selfish reasons, alright?” Steve said, and he was using that tone of voice that didn’t really leave any room for discussion.

“Alright,” Bucky mumbled, but it hurt to look at him, point blank at that sheer honesty, so he stared at the window on his right. 

“Yeah?” And he moved to join Bucky on the couch, facing his side with an arm around his middle and pressing a kiss to his metal shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, Buck,” Another kiss, closer to the joint. “You’re not an obligation, or a— a second choice. I want you, here and now, for as long as you’ll have me.” Steve’s thumb was running back and forth over one of his ribs. 

Bucky nodded tightly, but his throat felt raw and shaky. 

“And I know _you_ , Buck,” Steve said, setting his chin on his shoulder and tipping his head down to kiss the joint there, where gnarled scar tissue sat underneath his shirt. “You complicate things,” and Bucky scoffed, because that was unnecessary. “And I know you’re different, and I know I’m different, and I know I love you,” 

“Steve,” he said, and he didn’t know what he wanted. 

“I love exactly you, this punk with a metal arm who hogs the bed and watches my back,” he said, kissing his cheek, holding the other side of his jaw with his hand to pull Bucky’s head closer to him. He pecked his cheek again before backing away an inch. “I’m not delusional, I know things have changed. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I know there’s a difference,” he said, and he pressed a kiss to his temple this time, and his hand was still warm on his jaw, and Bucky wasn’t going to cry, he _wasn’t_. 

“End of the line means end of the line, always, no matter what. This is it for me, this, with you, the you who’s sitting beside me, the— the you who’s trying very hard not to cry,” Steve said, smiling and fucking nuzzling his cheek. 

“I’m _not_ ,” he said with too much force.

“Okay,” Steve said, but he was still smiling softly, “okay, okay. Whatever. I love you,” 

“I love you, too,” he said automatically, and Steve grinned, like he’d been waiting to hear him say it back. Idiot.

“Buck,” he said softly, all patient and understanding, and Bucky hadn’t meant to make this a whole _thing_. He looked at Steve, who smiled when Bucky looked at him.

“Good?” 

Bucky nodded, “Yeah,” and Steve’s smile just widened. 

“Good,” he said under his breath as he leaned in, kissing him firmly. 

**Author's Note:**

> marvel can choke on a happy ending that at least makes a shred of gosh darn sense


End file.
